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“Thanks. I needed the break from studying. But I have to get back to it.”

Her eyebrows go up. “Studying? It’s the first week of class.”

“Yeah, gotta get what I’m paying for.”

She laughs. “You have a scholarship. You're not paying for it.”

“I am if I fail.” I shrug, still grinning. “I need to pass to stay on the team.”

“Mm.” She stretches, unbothered. “You always talk this much after, or am I special?”

“You’re funny. Don’t let it go to your head.”

“Too late.” She nods toward the door. “Go be a nerd, hockey boy. Text me if you need another break.”

“Dangerous offer.”

“I’m not scared of a good time.”

I grab my hoodie and pull it on. I don’t sit back down. That’s the other half of the rule. Leave while it’s still fun.

“Night, Haley.”

“Night, Daniel.”

I let myself out into the hall, still smiling, body satiated for now. At least now I can focus on my reading.

Once back in the dorm room, I pull out the textbook and prop myself up on my elbows, laying on my stomach again. The first two chapters fly by, and I think I might be retaining some of it. But then the next thing I know, I’m blinking awake with a page stuck to my face with drool and morning light flowing into the room.

Quinn’s already awake, dressed and sitting at his desk as though he’s been a functioning person for hours. His hair is doing that neat-messy thing. And his bed looks like nobody slept in it, which means he made it the second he got up.

I peel the page off my cheek.

“Morning,” I say. It comes out in a croak.

“Good morning.” He doesn’t turn all the way around. “You were snoring.”

“I don’t snore.”

“You did. For forty minutes. I timed it.”

I huff a laugh. He’s so weird. “Maybe you should record it next time…do a science experiment on it or something.”

He turns fully to look at me. Clearly taking me seriously if the look on his face is anything to go by. “I do have my thesis paper to write this semester, and I haven’t chosen a topic.”

I sit up. “That was a joke.”

His face falls. “Oh. Yeah. I knew that.”

I’m pretty sure he didn’t, but I don’t call him out on it.

“For the record,” I say, gentler, “You’d need consent forms and probably money to pay me for my time. I’m expensive.”

That gets the smallest breath of something that might be a laugh. It lights me up inside. I want to hear a full blown one. And I decide right there that we will be friends.

“Do you have anything before Professor Rogers class today?” I ask.

He shakes his head. “No.”